


The Stars Go Waltzing

by greyCacophony



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyCacophony/pseuds/greyCacophony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you real?” It was an odd question that left him reeling for a moment. Was he? When in this place, was he real? He felt real. Ronan had felt real when touching him. But the grass  that felt real beneath him was only an illusion. They were in Ronan’s head. </p><p>“This is your dream, Lynch, but I’m the one dreaming in it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Go Waltzing

The dark chocolate tasted like ash on Adam’s tongue, and he found himself thankful for the bitterness as he watched the sun set on another bone-dry evening in Cabeswater. The rest of the bar lay, near forgotten, on a rock by the roots of the dream tree, close to the mouth of the cave where their lives had all changed. There was something transient about the place, something not quite in the past or present or future. It was like the lack of time in Cabeswater had morphed into a lack of anything at all.  
  
The thrum of the ley line in his pulse somehow lent a more electric taste to his bittersweet indulgence, the tang of magic and power making him feel like he had bitten into a volcano, or had breathed fire sometime recently. Adam loved this place. It seemed like the one place he truly felt at home. He usually felt like a stranger when he was taking up space that wasn’t truly his, like at Monmouth or the St. Agnes apartment. But here, in the midst of Cabeswater’s power, Adam felt like he was finally complete. He was the (formerly chapped) hands, the eyes of the ley line, finally in tune with the rest of his body.  
  
His eyes were closed, but they were open as well. He was asleep, but awake. He was dreaming, and the dream was not his. This was Ronan’s kingdom, his domain, and Adam was only an intruder. But the trees didn’t seem to mind as they whispered in his deaf ear, _hic venit hic venit_. He could not understand the words, not even in dreaming, so he pulled his cards. The beautiful, ephemeral images seemed to flicker like candlelight as the leaves rustled above him.  
  
_The Hanged Man_. If Ronan found out that Adam pulled for him, he would probably be so mad. His ‘delicate Catholic sensibilities’ would cause his head to explode. But Adam hadn’t been trying to pull for Ronan. Still, the Hanged Man was his card. The trees were almost screaming by now, and Adam dropped the cards, putting his hands over his ears to protect them from the creaking cries. Hic venit, hic venit, regi somnia! The wind picked up, scattering his cards, and somewhere in the quick approaching darkness, a flock of birds took off, their wings sounding like razors in the sudden night air.  
  
The warm summer sun was eclipsed by shadow, and the wind slowed to a dead stillness. Adam uncovered his ears, hands returning to the grass. His right caught the slick edge of one of his cards, and he flipped it. _The Magician_.  
  
“Parrish.” That voice. It was cold and sharp, like the point of an icicle lodged through the skull of an increasingly frostbitten corpse. And all of the previous warmth that Cabeswater had provided had disappeared in an instant, leaving Adam with goosebumps and trembling hands. Regi somnia, the king of dreams was home, and Adam was intruding. He swallowed his nerves, fiddling with the card in his hand.  
  
“Your dramatic entrance scattered my cards, Lynch.” He sighed, trying his best for nonchalance. Ronan chuckled from behind him, settling down on the cooling grass beside him. Adam turned his head, breath always taken away by the severity of Ronan’s features. “I expect to get them back, if you would be so kind.”  
  
“You’re the Magician, dude. I would expect you to be more suited for that task.” Ronan smirked, grin feral, and cracked his back. It was true, of course. Adam could very easily ask for Cabeswater to gather his cards for him, but…  
  
“I’m not the one who scattered them.” Ronan huffed a sigh, running a rough hand over his buzzed hair.  
  
“You’re just lazy is what you are.” They both knew this wasn’t true, quite the opposite in fact, but this was just how they talked to one another. Easy banter, no matter how tense the moment might be. They were characters, Adam and Ronan.  
  
Adam shrugged his shoulders, a smile that could be described as mischievous playing on his lips. Ronan, however, made a face that more resembled an animal bearing it’s teeth than a smile. The wind had started to pick up again, though there were no audible words this time. From the various places they had been, the cards slowly made their way to where Adam sat. He gathered them up with patient, experienced hands, noting where their edges had been dirt stained. It was a strange dance, something intimate despite its participants being inanimate, driven by an inanimate force. It was wonderful.  
  
But something appeared to have caught Ronan’s eye. Adam watched as he bent over, picking up something that was caught underneath his ratty looking boots. He turned it over in his hands, brow furrowed. Adam put his hands over the rest of the deck, feeling for what it was. Ronan made a strange, strangled noise just as Adam realized what was missing.  
  
“The Hanged Man, huh?” He asked, suddenly unsure if he was awake or sleeping. With Cabeswater it was hard to tell. Ronan nearly flinched. Adam could see it in his expression. There was a strange, almost irritated look had settled on his face, and he licked his lips before he spoke.  
  
“And that means what, exactly?” Ronan seemed to immediately regret asking. Adam cocked his head, eyes strange for a moment as the wind whispered the words in his ear. Tell him. He could feel the strong vines of Cabeswater’s ownership curling around his ribs, making it difficult to draw breath. His chest was filling, but not with air for his lungs, with words with a message.  
  
“Internal. You look inside, see visions, live as long as you can, take what you’re given. You hang somewhere between dreams and waking, between knowledge and innocence, burden and freedom. You have worlds inside you, sacrifice as your fuel.” His eyes were open, but Ronan was gone, images of dark wings and rushing water, the earth trembling beneath his feet.  
  
“It holds you underwater. _I_ hold you underwater. _Open your eyes_.” All of a sudden, he blinked back into existence, into awareness. He felt a warmth on his shoulder, turning his head to look at what he thought would be blood, would be pain. Instead, he caught Ronan’s worried gaze. His hand was burning hot against the cloth of Adam’s thin shirt.  
  
“I think it might be you who needs to open their eyes, Parrish. You know I hate when you go all _Cabeswater_ on me.” His tone was teasing, but there was a tremble in his voice, something hidden in plain view. Adam knew that Ronan had feelings for him. It was blatantly obvious. The rent, the lotion, the trips to the Barns, what happened with his father. And here he was, in the dreams of a beautiful boy.  
  
“I think you might be right.” Adam said, his voice soft beyond the point of even a whisper. Ronan’s brows furrowed as Adam leaned closer.  
  
“Wait-” Adam pulled back, something in him stirring with confusion as Ronan created space between them.  
  
“Sorry! Sorry. I just thought…” He wasn’t sure what he thought. His thoughts, for once, weren’t controlling what he was doing. The sturdy vines of Cabeswater had wrapped around his spine, bolstering his emotions. Ronan shook his head.  
  
“Are you real?” It was an odd question that left him reeling for a moment. Was he? When in this place, was he real? He felt real. Ronan had felt real when touching him. But the grass that felt real beneath him was only an illusion. They were in Ronan’s head.  
  
“This is your dream, Lynch, but I’m the one dreaming in it.” Ronan nodded, his eyes still reluctant. He reached a hand out to hesitantly brush a thumb over Adam’s cheekbone. It was a tender motion, somehow both out of place in Ronan’s mannerisms and somehow entirely natural. He touched Adam like he was not fragile, but precious. Like he feared more for his own strength than Adam’s frailty.  
  
_“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;”_ he quoted, and Adam was surprised to find himself familiar with the poem.  
  
_“I lift my lids and all is born again.” Adam countered, sensing what Ronan was getting at. He wasn’t worried about Adam being unwilling. He was worried about Adam being another dream creature._  
  
_“I think I made you up inside my head.”_ Ronan sounded… scared. It was something Adam had never heard.  
  
“You didn’t.” He said firmly. “Despite the fact that reciting Plath back to you would indicate this being something you made up. I didn’t know you were a fan.”  
The smile on his face was real, and it felt good. It felt nice, simple really. For once, he knew what he wanted. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to let himself have it. Ronan grumbled.  
  
“So this obviously isn’t a dream Parrish. Dream Parrish wouldn’t be so sassy at me.” Adam didn’t believe that. Sass was essentially how he and Ronan communicated, and neither of them would ever change that. It was easy banter between them, a time when Adam didn’t really have to fake emotion. He was allowed to be angry with Ronan, to fight with Ronan. He didn’t have that freedom with Blue or Gansey, and Noah gave him no reason to feel angry. That was the best description for how he felt with Ronan. He felt free, like he could do anything he wanted. And what he wanted was to kiss him.  
  
“Ronan.” He said, his voice serious but full of warmth and emotion. He could convey more in just that word than he could with an explanation. Ronan averted his gaze, lower lip caught in his teeth. When he looked back to Adam, the real smile was still there, hopefully welcoming. For what was probably the first time in his life, blush coloured Ronan’s cheeks and, amusingly, the tips of his ears.  
  
“You want this?” He asked, voice rough. His mouth was slightly open, and there was something akin to hope in his expression. He was beautiful. Adam was in a dream with a beautiful boy who wanted to kiss him, and Adam wanted to kiss him as well.  
  
“So much.” He whispered, leaning close enough to feel Ronan’s breath on his cheek. His eyes were impossibly blue, electric and bright unlike the pale watery shade of Adam’s. And Ronan leaned in as well. He didn’t kiss Adam. Adam didn’t kiss him. Their lips collided at precisely the same moment. They kissed each other, the night sky above them suddenly seeming brighter even though their eyes were shut. Something warm flared in Adam’s chest and he pressed a hand to the back of Ronan’s neck to draw him closer as Ronan grabbed his face. Their lips fit perfectly, tongues seeking entrance and receiving enthusiastic permission, and it seemed for a moment as if air was no longer a necessity. But then it was. They pulled back, and Ronan suddenly let out a surprised laugh,  
  
“A little too enthusiastic, Parrish.” He said, gesturing with his head to where they were sitting. The hand that hadn’t been caressing his cheek was wrapped in leafy vines, crawling up from the softened earth. Adam felt his face grow hot as light blue wisteria began to bloom their way up Ronan’s arm. He removed his hand from Ronan’s neck, using it to rub his own sheepishly.  
  
“Well, when you’ve got the combined enthusiasm of a teenage boy and a magical forest, it’s a little hard to control your responses.” He’d noticed it happen more and more frequently since the visit from his father when Cabeswater first allowed him to defend himself. Ever since then, the earth had begun to respond to his more intense emotions. Needless to say, Adam’s house plants had never looked better. Ronan snorted out a laugh, gently removing his arm as the vines gave way. He flexed his fingers and reached out to take Adam’s hand from the back of his neck, holding it between them.  
  
“Just when I’d almost forgotten that we’re dreaming, you have to remind me.” He said, his moodiness only half-farce. But Adam just cocked his head.  
  
“Yeah, but now things will change when we wake up.” He managed to keep the tremble in his voice to a minimum, but he couldn’t contain the small, “Right?” that seemed barely a whisper. Ronan’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Adam’s hand with untoward gentleness.  
  
“I promise.” And his hand was so warm in Adam’s that he almost believed that it was real. Ronan never lied. Ronan never lied, so it had to be true. He took a deep breath, running his fingers over the Greywaren’s rough knuckles.  
  
“Then we better open our eyes, huh?” He asked, the smile he got in return made him feel like there was a star burning in his heart.  
_______________________________________________________________

  
Adam stared at the cracked and water damaged ceiling of his tiny attic room, breath still caught in his chest. He blinked his eyes a few more times, trying to make sure that this was actually real and not just him still dreaming. He turned to see the clock by his bed proudly displaying that it was four in the morning, and a sigh dragged itself from his throat. As he went to throw off the thin sheets, but something stopped him, made him sit up and fully wake. Something soft was pressed into the palm of his hand. No, two somethings.   
  
He opened his hand slowly, like maybe the dream-objects would disappear if he exposed them too quickly to sunlight, like photographs in a darkroom. But they didn’t disappear, despite how awake he was. In his palm, the Hanged Man and wisteria, vine still wound around his fingers. It was real. They were real. What happened was real. God, he and Ronan _kissed_. He and _Ronan_ kissed. _Adam and Ronan kissed_. In a dream, no less, with the magic of Cabeswater moving around them like fireflies at sunset.  
  
Adam touched his lips with hesitant fingertips, expecting to find them warm and swollen, but his fingers only met normal skin. He had to go see him. It had been real. He knew it was real. But he was doubting? What if Cabeswater had made it all up? What if it was real and Ronan was doubting? He had to go. He needed to get to Monmouth right then and there. So he ran as fast as he could, throwing on ratty jeans and a flannel before flying to the Hondayota and tearing out of the driveway.  
  
The drive was excruciatingly long despite being relatively short, and the A SHITBOX SING-ALONG tape helpfully blared Bohemian Rhapsody along the way, making the whole ordeal seem far more rushed than it truly was. But soon enough, Monmouth loomed in his vision, as formidable and daunting as the boys who lived inside.  
  
“God fucking damnit, Gansey.” Adam spat, glaring at The Pig in the driveway. There was a seventy-five percent chance that Gansey was, in fact, not at all asleep and instead was in the living room working on that stupid model of Henrietta. And that meant that Adam would have to get through him to talk to Ronan, and Adam was in no state for a confrontation with Gansey. He was in no state for a confrontation with Ronan either, but at least that one was necessary. He sighed, parking his car by the BMW, thanking every deity that Noah had given him his own key.  
  
The walk up to the second floor was always moderately dirty and unpleasant, but Adam kicked up dust behind him as he sprinted up the steps, thinking over what he would say to Gansey to get into Ronan’s room, what he would say to Ronan. He nearly fell over himself, lost in thought as he hit the last step, reaching the living room where Gansey was kneeled on the floor with the model. His head whipped around, glasses characteristically askew, and startled.  
  
“Ah, Adam Parrish! Wait… what’s happened? What’s wrong? Who’s dead?” Adam huffed, trying his best to look nonchalant.  
  
“No one. Nothing is wrong. I need to talk to Ronan.” And he left Gansey sitting among scraps of cardboard and paper.  
  
Ronan’s room was like a forbidden area, someplace with a sign like _BEWARE DOG_ or _DANGER, RADIATION_. Adam could hear Chainsaw’s feathers rustling and the low drone of Irish rock being played very loudly through headphones, so he knew that Ronan was awake. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Ronan was lying on his bed, over the thin grey sheets, with his clothes on. Chainsaw, who was perched on the headboard, let out a soft _Cr-r-ruck_ , her name for Adam. Ronan opened his eyes, a strange look passing his features as he probably realized it wasn’t Gansey trespassing in his room. The headphones slid off of his ears as he sat up, falling back onto the bed with a soft sound.  
  
“Parrish.” He said, both a greeting and a question. Adam blinked. He hadn’t really thought about what he wanted to talk to Ronan about. He didn't know how to start without it being weird. So he resigned himself to being weird.  
  
“So… we both were in that dream, right? That wasn’t just a one-person thing…?” His voice was small, wavering as he took a hesitant step towards the bed. Ronan blinked before shaking his head, patting the bed next to him in a gesture for Adam to sit down. Adam felt strange, being this close to Ronan in waking. He could feel his warmth, his breathing, the weight of him on the bed. It felt like dreams, but Cabeswater was whispering to him, _et vigilantibus, et vigilantibus_. Ronan cleared his throat, the sound sry and constrained.  
  
“Um, no. No, that was actually the two of us.” He bit his lip, fingers twitching restlessly in his lap. “And… it happened. And we both still want this, right?” He sounded unsure, the opposite of how Ronan lived his life. Adam swallowed hard, dangerous thoughts entering his mind at an alarmingly fast pace, and the main one of them all was just the overwhelming cry of _fuck it_. He reached out, grabbing Ronan’s jittering hand and holding it between his own. There was a beat of agonizing silence before Ronan turned to face him, pulling Adam a little closer. Their breath mingled between them, something palpable, something sacred.  
  
“We both still want this.” Adam breathed, eyes half-lidded. He couldn’t pull his gaze from Ronan, from his electric eyes and his soft looking lips and his eyelashes and his jawline. He saw Ronan’s gaze roaming his own face, one of his hands moving to tangle in dusty blond hair.  
  
For just a moment they stayed there in the moment before everything would change, before they changed everything, _before_. But then it was lips on lips, gentle and unhurried, moving in tandem with the ease of stars aligning. It was hands roaming, exploring as much as they could, finding bare skin of neck and waist. It was tongues and teeth and fingertips pressing bruises onto flesh. It was something new, _after_. But breathing was still a necessity in this strange future, a force pulling the boys away from each other. Adam’s eyes were open. Ronan was breathing heavily, and Adam could hear his own heart beating out a brisk tempo.  
  
This silence was strange. Comfortable. _Before_ and _after_ had merged to form a new reality. It felt like that dreamy timelessness, like the breeze of Cabeswater, now. And now was better than anything Adam could ever have imagined. He hoped it was better than whatever Ronan could have dreamt before as well. The vines that had been wrapped around his spine and ribs, those invisible weights, receded. He slumped, his breath leaving him all at once, and he felt dizzy with the realization that they had finally done it. All mystery, all doubt or hesitance was fled.  
  
“Wow.” Adam sighed. He had one hand on Ronan’s back, the other on his thigh. He touched their foreheads together, an uncontrollable smile settled on his features as he marveled at the boy in front of him. Ronan ran a rough thumb over the ridge of Adam’s cheekbone, the other clutching at his waist.  
  
“Are you real?” He asked, voice unwavering in its urgency. Adam squeezed his hand, a grounding gesture for the both of them. The question was less abrasive now, more like a joke. You could never tell what was real and what was dreaming with Ronan.  
  
_“I should have loved a thunderbird instead.”_ Adam’s voice was just above a whisper. His eyes were half-lidded, gaze searching specifically for familiar bright blue. Ronan bit his lip, something in his expression searching.  
  
_“At least when spring comes they roar back again.”_ He leaned in towards Adam once more, mouths brushing. Something clicked, finally complete after the wonderings and wonderment and unwieldy beginnings. _Now_ was _now_ , and nothing else mattered in that second but each other.  
  
“Our eyes are open.” Adam’s voice was soft, barely a whisper. It was more of an exhalation, like the air in his lungs only existed to say those words. A smirk settled on Ronan’s lips, making him seem more like himself. Or, at least the self that he showed everyone else. He always slipped up with Adam before, but now everything was out in the open. Adam couldn’t help but smile as well.  
  
“So they are.” A laugh bubbled from of Ronan’s lips, warmth flooding Adam’s chest at the sound. It seemed ridiculous in that moment, the amount of fear they had held over what now seemed like an inevitability. And they were laughing. And they were smiling. And everything was right, the way it should be. And this was infinite: Adam-and-Ronan. It was infinite: Adam-and-Ronan-and-Noah-and-Blue-and-Gansey. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my garbage sons being trash together. I just love them so much. I JUST LOVE ADAM PARRISH SO MUCH. I'M SORRY.


End file.
